Reading and Writing

Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit.

Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with their blood. Write with blood, and you will find that blood is spirit.

It is no easy task to understand unfamiliar blood; I hate the reading idlers.

Understanding unfamiliar blood is not easy. I hate idle readers.

He who knoweth the reader, doeth nothing more for the reader. Another century of readers—and spirit itself will stink.

Anyone who knows the reader does nothing more for the reader. Another century of readers, and the spirit itself will stink.

Every one being allowed to learn to read, ruineth in the long run not only writing but also thinking.

Allowing everyone to learn to read eventually ruins not only writing but also thinking.

Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it even becometh populace.

Once, spirit was God. Then it became man, and now it is even becoming the masses.

He that writeth in blood and proverbs doth not want to be read, but learnt by heart.

Whoever writes in blood and proverbs wants not to be read, but to be learned by heart.

In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak, but for that route thou must have long legs. Proverbs should be peaks, and those spoken to should be big and tall.

In the mountains, the shortest way is from peak to peak, but you need long legs to take it. Proverbs should be peaks, and the people who hear them should be big and tall.

The atmosphere rare and pure, danger near and the spirit full of a joyful wickedness: thus are things well matched.

The air is thin and pure, danger is near, and the spirit is full of joyful wickedness. These things go well together.

I want to have goblins about me, for I am courageous. The courage which scareth away ghosts, createth for itself goblins—it wanteth to laugh.

I want goblins around me because I am courageous. The courage that scares away ghosts creates goblins for itself because it wants to laugh.

I no longer feel in common with you; the very cloud which I see beneath me, the blackness and heaviness at which I laugh—that is your thunder-cloud.

I no longer feel that I have anything in common with you. The cloud I see beneath me is your thundercloud. I laugh at its darkness and heaviness.

Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation; and I look downward because I am exalted.

You look up when you long to rise higher. But I look down because I am already high above.

Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted?

Which of you can laugh and feel uplifted at the same time?

He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities.

Whoever climbs the highest mountains laughs at all tragic plays and tragic realities.

Courageous, unconcerned, scornful, coercive—so wisdom wisheth us; she is a woman, and ever loveth only a warrior.

Wisdom wants us to be courageous, unconcerned, scornful, and forceful. She is a woman and loves only a warrior.

Ye tell me, “Life is hard to bear.” But for what purpose should ye have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening?

You tell me, “Life is hard to bear.” But why be proud in the morning and resigned in the evening?

Life is hard to bear: but do not affect to be so delicate! We are all of us fine sumpter asses and assesses.

Life is hard to bear. But don't pretend to be so delicate! We are all fine pack donkeys, male and female.

What have we in common with the rose-bud, which trembleth because a drop of dew hath formed upon it?

What do we have in common with a rosebud that trembles because a drop of dew has formed on it?

It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love.

It is true that we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving.

There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some method in madness.

And to me also, who appreciate life, the butterflies, and soap-bubbles, and whatever is like them amongst us, seem most to enjoy happiness.

And to me, too, as someone who appreciates life, butterflies, soap bubbles, and those among us like them seem happiest.

To see these light, foolish, pretty, lively little sprites flit about—that moveth Zarathustra to tears and songs.

Watching these light, foolish, pretty, lively little sprites flit about moves Zarathustra to tears and song.

I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance.

I would only believe in a God who knows how to dance.

And when I saw my devil, I found him serious, thorough, profound, solemn: he was the spirit of gravity—through him all things fall.

When I saw my devil, I found him serious, thorough, profound, and solemn. He was the spirit of gravity. Through him, all things fall.

Not by wrath, but by laughter, do we slay. Come, let us slay the spirit of gravity!

We kill not with anger, but with laughter. Come, let us kill the spirit of gravity!

I learned to walk; since then have I let myself run. I learned to fly; since then I do not need pushing in order to move from a spot.

I learned to walk. Since then, I have let myself run. I learned to fly. Since then, I have not needed to be pushed to get moving.

Now am I light, now do I fly; now do I see myself under myself. Now there danceth a God in me.—

Now I am light, now I fly. Now I see myself beneath me. Now a God dances in me.

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.